


What Is In For Mama?

by Arithanas



Category: Chicago (2002)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2017-12-31 23:36:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1037737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arithanas/pseuds/Arithanas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mama Morton knows how to make the best from her job position.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Is In For Mama?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ilthit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilthit/gifts).



The prison guard dragged both women into Mama's office; his stern face barely concealed his amusement as he reported the outburst on the general area. Both those women were fighting over one table while the tall pile of dollar bills was flowing everywhere. He reported the Hunyak was helpful enough to gather the money as the warden subdued those two little jazz sinners.

Mama nodded and he left the hefty sum on her desk. Once they got rid of his presence both Velma and Roxie tried to make themselves presentable. Velma had a little rivulet of blood dripping from the corner of her mouth, and she wiped it with her thumb. Roxie was too busy trying to fix her fake blond curls, which made apparent a recent bruise on her forehead, like a big splat of strawberry jam. Mostly, they were in good shape and Mama Morton gave them a long look, of which fair appreciation of their bruised beauty was the main component.

"So, have we descended into madness already?" her husky voice asked from behind the desk. One of her fingers was too busy tinkering with one of the buttons of her stern uniform.

The sound of her voice was the only thing they both need to lose all composure.

"This little fake blonde..."

"If she was not..."

"My lawyer..."

"Then she went to my money..."

Mama let them rave and ramble for a while, without even trying to make sense of their mumble of hurried words. Her eyes were too busy seeing their creamy skin getting pinker and pinker with each word as their murderous intent was mounting to their precious yet vacant heads. They gradually fell silent when they noticed Mama Morton was not even listening to what they were saying.  The silence fell on the grim office. Mama, unhurried, counted and piled up the bills. Roughly a hundred bucks in fives and ones. God knows where these little murderesses found the dough to grease up the machine, but they certainly do. Now, in the manual there was a provision for these cases, but to turn the hundred in to Uncle Sam would not help any cause, especially not the Morton's cause that was the only one Mama cared about.

"You both, ladies, need to put your act together," she said after a long silent spell. "You are only hurting your own case."

"Another thing I want to harm," Velma spewed, and her twitching fingers betrayed the need she had to pull some bleached hair.

"Feel free to add a couple of years more to your sentence," Mama said, taking the bills and tapping them on the desk. "I doubt Billy could take them off, at least, not for free, pretty one."

Velma shut her mouth and pressed her lips. All this rousing activity was rendering her flushed and trembling. Mama liked her that way; she was a wild little thing and pretty as sin.

Roxie was silent, not from regret, but because her brain was smart enough to learn from  experience and certainly her cold heart was pondering the consequences of this little bout of unladylike behavior.

"You are thinking about the press," Mama said with a smile, but the hesitating nod told her otherwise. "Well, you should, because they would pay a whole lot more than this," she pointed at them with the sheaf of dollars, "to hear the demure wife was about to strangle the fiendish double murderer of windy city."

"But..." said Roxie.

Mama raised her eyebrows.

"I didn't put my hand in her neck..." Roxie barely ended the sentence in such small voice.

"And the truth counts for something in the newspapers, Miss Mississippi?"

Velma snickered.

"So, how are we going to sort this out, ladies?" Mama Morton rose from her chair, and walked slowly until she was in front of both of them.

"Well, you give me my money and we behave, mama," Velma suggested, her eyes broadcasting murder higher than the fanciest radio station in Chicago.

" _Your_ money," Mama's voice was incredulous, "Baby, this money is not yours, not even hers. This is mama's money now. Besides, there is nothing for mama there."

With that both of the inmates looked at each other with unease.

"And I'll tell you what are we going to do," Mama fanned herself with the wad of greens. "You two vaudeville actress are going to perform for me. Whoever does it best got scot free. The other has to answer to Mama."

"Like a striptease?" Velma asked with a scowl.

"If that suits you, child." Mama crossed her generous legs getting ready to enjoy the spectacle.

Velma smiled to her, her lips moving in silent counting to keep the rhythm; Roxie seemed to be taken off balance, but as soon as the Velma's well-toned thighs were in sight that was enough to wake her up. She tried to place her hands on her own the gray, coarse shirt, but she was too nervous; obviously that was not one act she had even considered to add to her repertoire.

On the other hand, Velma was seriously experienced in that kind of dance, her skirt was hiked high; her hips were rotating in silent invitation; her eyes were half closed, too absorbed in her own body to notice her competitor fumbling with the buttons, valiantly trying to disrobe with some charm, but too conscious of Mama's eyes to even make it possible.

Mama saw her charges trying to start the exotic act, letting her eyes dance from one white thigh to a pearly shoulder enhanced by a black strap. She smacked her lips, smiling at the buffet; Velma's eyes went wide and took notice of her surroundings. Her teeth were bared in a furious grim and her hands hurried to open her shirt widely, exposing her chest with pride, like a challenge. The sound of her breathing roused Roxie who went a little further, taking her uniform by the brim and unfolding it over her head with an energetic movement, letting mama see a good deal of her flat tummy when the slip slipped  over with the dress.

"Hey!" Velma protested, whipping her skirt away, "That's my slip!"

"Says who!" Roxie taunted and shook her little fanny to make the slip cover her lower part.

Velma pounced at her. Roxie barely could make a turn for evading her attacker and her slip hiked, showing a flash of creamy skin, which was promptly covered by a claw-like hand with long nails as Velma tried to get a good hold of her. Mama smiled, her girls are hot when the blood boils. Roxie tried to stop Velma, but she threw her head behind and smiled as she slid Velma's slip strap, gifting Mama with a sight of a round, full breast. As always, Roxie was playing with fire, even if she didn't know how to handle it.

Velma blocked Roxie's kick, barely aware her bosom was showing, and her hand got a good hold on the thigh, the soft fabric slid over Roxie's hip, flashing some lacy undies over the perky, young ass. The bold maneuvers made the bottle blond lose her balance and she hooked her leg on Velma's thigh to stop the inevitable fall.

Thought it was hard for Mama Morton, she had to put an end, before the little brush became a full fight in her office. She stood up tall and her massive presence made the two embraced women stop their cat-fight.  With stern but careful care Mama took them both by the waist and untangled them.

"Stop now, gals," she admonished them both, and pushed them apart.

"Who won, Mama?" Roxie asked, arranging the slippery fabric around her frame.

"No one did," Mama said, handing them the scattered uniforms, "Or rather, you both did. Four hours of solitary confinement for each of you to cool your hot heads."

"That's not fair!" Roxie exploded as she tried to close her uniform.

"Shut your fat mouth and get used to it." Mama lost her cool; she took Roxie by the arm and dragged her out of the office to hand her to the guard. 

When Mama returned to her office, Velma sat at her desk, legs crossed, white skin framed by dark stockings and gray uniform. A sour smile was in her lips and reproach in her eyes.

"You are naughty, Mama," Velma said and balanced her shoe on the tip of her foot. "You never meant to let any of us get away scot free."

"Then, you mustn't sound too surprised, child." Mama approached her and placed her hand on the knee.

"And to think I took your word." Velma sounded disappointed.

"You trust mama, child," Mama Morton said as she petted Velma's hair, "and you will do even better."

Velma nodded. Her eyes were dark with wariness, but a brilliant smile appeared on her face when Mama's fingers fondled her stocked thighs and placed a tight roll of greens on her garter.

"Now, to solitary confinement with you," Mama said, taking her by the arm, ready to hand her over to the prison guard.

Velma just smiled, wondering if Mama Morton really meant to leave her or Roxie in a really solitary confinement.

**Author's Note:**

> Lots and lot of thanks to L.


End file.
